Old Friends Die Hard
by AngelAirwaves
Summary: Dean struggles with a change of heart, while Sam does his best to comfort him. Oneshot, rated T, lots of angst.


_Alright guys, here's another one shot (after more than a year?! what?!). I am still sorry about the slow updates, I just hope you're patient with me! I got a new computer of my own, so now I can update more regularly. Btw, this is before they discover the Men of Letters hideout or anything, but after their dad died so basically whenever they're still on the road._

Old Friends Die Hard- A Supernatural Oneshot

"One more day, just one more day of this _freaking_ job!" Dean muttered as he trudged under the overhang of yet another motel. At this point, he had stayed nights, even weeks in so many of these oddly similar buildings that he didn't even bother keep track of all his room numbers and identities anymore. At the current moment, he couldn't care less how suspicious his alibis might look; he was covered in a nasty gelatinous substance that smelled sickeningly of overly fruity candy from his last hunt. It had been a freakishly strong, sticky monster that wasn't in his dad's book, he was planning on adding its information as soon as he slept for a little. He fumbled with his key, covering them with slime in the process, and finally managed to stumble through the door into the small room which he was sharing with his brother.

Sam jumped up as his brother burst through the door, and started towards him concernedly. "Dean!" he exclaimed, worry tinging his voice, "What the hell happened out there? I was watching the cameras until they all went blank, then your phone cut out too! Did you figure out what it was?"

Dean didn't answer, but just walked to the bathroom and started running the sink. Sam knew his brother well enough to realize that he would eventually tell him how the case went bad, as long as he didn't push. After about 15 minutes, Dean came out relatively clean, and sat on the end of his motel bed twisting a dirty towel in his hands. A long silence fell, with Dean looking at the floor and Sam trying to catch his eye. Finally, he looked up and said, "Hey Sammy, remember when we were back in Alabama, and Dad was hunting that ghost that kept killing old bachelors?"

Relieved that his brother was talking again, Sam replied, "Yeah, I think that was the first time he took us out hunting. Not hunting ghosts or anything, but he let us take some guns and we shot at deer for a day. It was one of the only really fun times I can remember from that year. But what happened on the case?"

Instead of answering his question, his older brother only smiled sadly and nodded. "Remember who let us camp in his backyard for the trip, instead of staying in another crappy motel?"

Sam had to think for a second, but he tentatively asked, "Was it old Mr. Mason?'

At the sound of the name, Dean violently started up and paced into the bathroom, throwing the towel into the bathtub and storming back out again. Sam prepared himself for another furious silence, but instead he was caught unawares by a loud outburst from his brother. "I wish we never met the man!" Startled, Sam jumped up too, but he covered his movement by walking over to the small kitchenette area and starting to brew a cup of motel coffee. He spoke quietly, trying to calm whatever had gotten his brother so riled up.

"I thought he was very kind to let us stay on his land, and Dad even told him about our work at the end. By the time we left, he was going to become a hunter, I think."

Instead of soothing Dean as planned, the words seemed to throw him even more into a dark rage. Sam was worried about having to pay for damages to the room before long. But suddenly, Dean just dropped onto his bed again and put his head in his hands, letting out a long sigh. "Sammy," he muttered tiredly, "sometimes I think this job isn't worth it. Ever thought about it? That we usually manage to kill more people than we actually save?"

At this point Sam was getting extremely concerned, so he gingerly sat on the bed across from his partner. He began to catch on, and quietly asked, "Dean? Did something happen to Mr. Mason?"

Slowly, Dean lifted his head and looked his brother in the eye. "Vamp. In Birmingham. He hadn't been hunting long at all… He just started a few months before that. They found his body, covered in blood, he was trying to fight back… They didn't even feed, Sammy, they just tore him up as a reminder to anybody else." Sam leaned across the gap between them and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean. This _wasn't your fault_. How could it have been, you weren't even around. These things happen, hunters die all the time, it's part of the job description-"

Dean cut him off, shrugging away his hand and pacing around the room. "Exactly! That's my point! Hunters die all the time, but you know what? It isn't just hunters. It's every freaking person they ever talk to, ever touch, anybody who ever gets _near_ a magical item, those monsters don't care about hunter or ordinary human- too many people die. Dad should have never have told Mason about any of this world, hell, we should never have known about any of this world! Some days I just want to go back to Lawrence and not deal with any of this again. You know what, I think I'll take Baby tonight." He started for the door, but Sam jumped up to block his way.

"Dean!" he exclaimed, "You can't just walk out like that, come on. Whatever happened to the family business? Look man, I know it sucks but this is our job. Remember all those people we _have_ saved? All the families that didn't lose a kid? Or a dad, or a mom? That never had to go through what we did, because we killed some ghost or vamp? You've got to think about those people, not the ones who didn't make it. If we aren't out there, so many more are going to die, that we had a chance to save. I don't know about you, but I think Dad would have wanted us to try, right?"

Dean seemed to shrink a little as the words sunk in. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. Dad would have wanted me to go on. He never stopped trying to save people, find the thing that killed Mom so it wouldn't kill anybody else. I can't stop now."

Relieved, Sam led his brother over to the sink and poured him a cup of water. "Come on, man, you've had a rough hunt. Take some sleeping pills and hit the sack, we'll find another case in the morning." Obediently, Dean downed a few pills and kicked off his shoes, falling into bed. After a few moments, Sam heard his snores begin to rumble from his throat, and knew his older brother was soundly asleep. He got ready for bed himself, but he knew after that outburst it would take a long, long time to fall asleep. He didn't believe what he said at all, but he knew to keep Dean sane he needed to make him keep hunting, to make sure he had something good he was trying to accomplish. Sam knew deep inside that his brother was probably right, that they hurt a lot of people by coming into contact with them, but he needed to assure Dean that everything would be alright in the end, everything would work out because they were doing something right. The tables are turned, he thought before finally closing his eyes, now the younger is finally taking care of the elder.


End file.
